


Come In and Change My Life

by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 2018 FIFA World Cup, Alpha Liam, Alpha Louis, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, But Some Things are Different, Fluff, Football Player Louis, Football Player Zayn, Hand Jobs, Harry writes scores for movies, Knotting, Liam plays the cello, M/M, Mentions of a heat, Mpreg, Mpreg Harry, Omega Harry, Omega Zayn, Rimming, Smut, Unplanned Pregnancy, and Niall's a keeper, and there's a cat, composer harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-07 13:15:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20817887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarah_writes/pseuds/lightswoodmagic
Summary: He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment.He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped.He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was.Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.





	Come In and Change My Life

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
First of all, a massive, massive thank you to Chloe for running this exchange. I had such a lovely time with it all, and it was joy to write.  
Secondly, a huge thank you to my group chats and support network. I'm so grateful to everyone who encourages my writing. I'd be absolutely no where without you all.  
And finally, I had so much fun with this! Some of the FIFA World Cup stuff is legit, but some of it is definitely made up, as is some of the Premier League stuff.  
I hope you enjoy! xx

Soft scratches and muttered words rang through the flat as thoughts became notes, ebbing and flowing in his mind as he translated them to paper. A semi quaver here, staccato there; that vibrato in the next section would meld seamlessly with the fight scene he’d watched yesterday at the studio. The purring coming from his lap would’ve completed the scene perfectly, a soft cocoon of quiet and concentration, steam still rising from the mug to his left.

The roar of the crowd from the television in front of him broke through it all, though he could never find it in himself to mute it.

Harry glanced up at a particularly loud cheer, humming with satisfaction when he saw Niall dive to stop the ball from sailing into the goal. He watched for a moment, let himself get distracted by the way Niall threw the ball perfectly to meet bright blue football boots. He knew those boots anywhere, had seen them thrown haphazardly at the front door of the flat he was in, but now they were quick, sneaky and dangerous as they dribbled past an opponent and sent the black and white ball soaring across the pitch to connect soundly with a bright yellow pair.

He’d missed watching the game live, even though he’d been in the flat with the TV on, so he was making up for it now. He’d been too caught up in inspiration that’d struck as soon as he’d seen the vintage Spiderman poster that hung in the games room. He’d gone in there to find Ronaldo, the grey lump of fluff currently sprawled on his lap, and it’d felt like it’d smacked him upside the head. Harry had been lucky enough to see a few scenes from the newest Spiderman instalment yesterday, a film that wouldn’t be released for months and months yet, and even though it was an absolute necessity in his job, it still filled him with awe and glee.

The game had slowed down a bit now, so Harry let his eyes drop back to the sheet music in front of him. His free hand came up to scratch behind Ronaldo’s ears, and the soft blanket covering his legs settled perfectly with the warmth in the room to remind him, again, that the scent of pine that hung in the air was starting to feel too much like home.

A semi tone here, a harsh entrance from the cello now to build into a crescendo. This film was exceptionally different from the last score he’d written, a soft and gentle romantic comedy filled with piano and sustained notes; Harry’s favourite genre to watch, but not his favourite to write.

Writing scores for action films had been what he’d been most afraid of, at the start. He was still new in the industry, still looked down on by the composers that’d been around for decades, but he was more than making a name for himself now. At 23, he was one of the youngest to ever write a score for a blockbuster film, and when he’d written for Dunkirk just last year, it’d been a learning curve that’d changed his life. Working with Hans Zimmer had been a literal dream come true, and he still had the signed photo of them together on his fridge.

Harry also had his number in his phone and a standing coffee date whenever they were in the same country. It didn’t lessen the feeling of wonderment that he still got every time he saw the photo, reminding him that even though there were people who sneered at him, he’d gotten to work on a _Christopher Nolan film _with _Hans Zimmer_.

It didn’t help matters though that Harry was an omega, something that the Academy and most people in the industry saw as a weakness. He’d been told time and time again that he was destined for rom coms and coming of age teenage films, so he’d taken the time to write for every genre, just to prove that he could. He couldn’t wait to see how incredibly satisfying it was going to be to attend the Academy Awards to shove it in their faces; he was an omega who’d worked with Hans Zimmer on an action film that’d _just_ been nominated for Best Original Score. He’d already decided he was going to take Liam as his date, best friends since they were 10, and let him scowl at everyone, something Liam always seemed to want to do when Harry’s career was talked about.

He couldn’t imagine a more perfect night ever existing.

Well. Almost.

The roar came from the TV again, and Harry’s head snapped up just in time to see the replay.

_“…a fantastic tackle by Tomlinson there, he’s really showing why he deserves to make the England team.”_

Harry whooped to himself, startling Ronaldo where he’d fallen asleep as Louis slid across the grass in slow motion, the replay perfectly capturing the intense concentration on his face.

“That’s your dad, huh?” Harry scratched at Ronaldo’s head until he settled again. “Look at him, saving the day out there.”

Harry watched, a soft smile on his face as Louis jogged across the pitch, stretching his calves and making his thighs look _obscene._ Harry groaned, throwing his head back on the couch and closing his eyes. He willed his body to calm down, didn’t want his scent to fill up Louis’ flat for when he came home.

It’d been one of the first things Louis had noticed about him, though.

_Harry knocked on the door, fingers drumming restlessly on the tin of biscuits he’d made. He could hear someone call out that they were coming, so he waited. _

_He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. _

_He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. _

_He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. _

_Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour. _

_He was wearing grey joggers that looked soft to the touch, and a black hoodie that looked even softer. His hair was swept back from his face, his eyes bright and warm, and the surprised smile on his face made Harry want to cry at how gorgeous he looked. _

_There was another rush of heat, his fingers tightened around the container, and Louis’ face shifted. _

_“I – uh, I’m Harry, your,” he stopped to take a deep breath, but all that did was flood his senses with a new scent; pine, fresh and sharp, and soil, earthy and wet. His head spun as he let out a shaky breath. A snap of something citrusy crashed into him now, and he shook his head. “Your new neighbour. I made you something to welcome you to the building – fuck – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t know until I was here, I –.”_

_Louis seemed to reach out before hesitating, his hand jolting back as he visibly sniffed. Harry thrust the container at him as Louis’ pupils dilated, and then their fingers were brushing as he took it. _

_“Thanks, Harry, I –.” Louis paused and shuddered just as Harry felt the first trickle of slick. Louis gripped the door frame. “’m Louis, I – fuck, I’d invite you in, but you smell –.” Louis’ eyes widened as if he’d realised how inappropriate it was, but Harry shot him a pleading glance. “You smell incredible, like, like rain, and springtime, and I really want to meet you properly, but you should go home. Ah fuck, are you gonna be okay? Harry?”_

_Harry nodded quickly, stepping backwards even as everything screamed at him to move closer, to press himself against the alpha with the gorgeous scent, to let himself be fucked and claimed and –._

_“I – I should go, it was nice to meet you,” Harry rushed out, walking backwards down the hall to his flat. _

_Louis stepped out into the hall to watch him go with a small groan, the frame of the door looking like it was about to crack under the pressure of his hand. “You too, Harry. Thanks for the biscuits.”_

Harry had ducked back into his flat so quickly that night that his head had been spinning, and if every single orgasm he’d over the next few days was to Louis fucking him against the wall of the shared hallway, no one needed to know.

He’d opened the door after his heat to find the container on his mat, washed, with a little note in it.

_Thanks for these, they were bloody delicious! Drop by so I can thank you properly, when you get a chance._

It’d been signed simply, just an _L_ and a smiley with crosses for the eyes, and when Harry had gone over there, silently hoping to be pushed against a wall and snogged, Louis had been nothing but polite and friendly. Neither of them mentioned it, and they hadn’t mentioned it since, and an easy friendship had blossomed. Louis had asked Harry to watch over Ronaldo on a couple of away games, and then it’d become a routine that had Harry going almost out of his mind. He loved Ronaldo, loved that he could help Louis out as well, but being surrounded by Louis’ scent for sometimes days at a time was incredibly overwhelming.

It wasn’t just that Louis was attractive, though. He was everything Harry had always wanted in a partner; kind, attentive, protective and loving. He was fierce and strong, but soft and sweet, and Harry _ached_ for Louis to want him the same way.

He was humming to himself now to get back on track, a soft melody that he thought would work perfectly for a scene with Peter and MJ. He rushed to jot it down, managing to draw the notes before the screaming on the screen got louder and louder. He looked up just in time to see Zayn, Louis’ best mate and star striker for Man U, kick the ball to sail straight into the top right corner.

The stadium erupted, Zayn jumped into the air with a shout, and Harry startled Ronaldo again when he fist pumped. He picked the cat up and dangled him in the air.

“See that? Your uncle Zayn just kicked a goal, you know.”

Suddenly there was a sound from behind him and a rush of pine.

“You know Haz, most people watch these live.”

Harry grinned, standing quickly to spin around, still holding Ronaldo in his arms. “Well, most people don’t get inspired by vintage Spiderman posters in their neighbour’s homes and get distracted, do they?”

Louis was leaning easily back against the wooden dining table, smirk on his face, hair slightly damp from the shower he would’ve had at the pitch. His usual scent was mixed with grass, even though he’d showered, and dirt from the pitch, and Harry tried to sneakily breath it in without Louis noticing. Louis was always intoxicating, but when he’d just come from a game, he was almost too much to resist.

“You guys played brilliantly.”

Louis laughed, a quiet thing that made his eyes light up where they still rested on Harry. “You haven’t seen the rest yet, love. Might tank from here.”

Harry shrugged, setting Ronaldo down on the floor so he could run to Louis. He watched as Louis picked him up, cooing at him and scratching under his chin. “True, but you’ve played pretty good until now at least.”

“Nah, don’t worry. We keep it up.”

Harry threw his hands over his ears. “Spoilers! How was the rest of the weekend?”

Louis giggled and let Ronaldo go where he was starting to squirm. “Good. Had a few drinks with the lads, got told I’ve been picked for the England side for FIFA, just the usual.”

“That’s great, I –.” Harry froze from where he was looking at his nails, the black starting to chip, and slowly lifted his head. “Wait, what? You’ve been picked? Louis!” He let out a startled laugh when Louis started to bounce on the spot, and jogged across the room to grab him.

Louis jumped into his arms without prompting, wrapping his legs around Harry with a grin. “I made it, Haz! I made it!”

Harry spun them around, holding Louis tightly and burying his face in his neck. There’d never really been any doubt; Louis was absolutely one of the best in the league, but the happiness radiating from him was infectious, and Harry couldn’t stop laughing.

“You made it, Lou! Tell me all about it, please.” Harry let go of Louis’ waist and let him slide down to the floor. It was one of his favourite things about him; he was an alpha, through and through, but he still cuddled up to Harry, leapt into his arms, let himself be carried if he hurt himself on the pitch. The best kind of alpha, Harry always thought. Strong, but still soft, and Harry’s heart leapt into his throat.

“Well ah, I’ll actually be gone for about three months,” Louis said, apologetic tone in his voice, and Harry’s heart sank all the way back down to his toes. “Is it way too much to ask if you could watch Ronaldo for the whole time I’m away? We can move him to your place, it’ll be easier.”

“No!” Harry almost yelled, and Louis startled. “I mean, yes, of course I can watch him, but we don’t have to move him. I’ll just move between both.”

And soak in as much of Louis’ scent as possible.

Louis’ hand came up to clap Harry on the shoulder. “Well, if you’re sure.”

It wasn’t even a question.

“Of course, Lou. ‘m so proud of you.”

Louis’ face flushed as he tried to hide a smile, but Harry caught it anyway, and then Louis was moving forward to grip his waist. Harry couldn’t move, didn’t dare to, but he swallowed heavily when a tang of citrus hit his nostrils, and he melted into the arousal swirling in the air. Louis pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, squeezed his hip, and then stepped back, and Harry swayed where he stood.

“Thanks, Haz.”

*****

Harry was positive that Louis was trying to kill him. It was the only option, the only explanation as to why every single time Harry had left his flat in the last couple of months, Louis had been coming home from the gym. Harry had even left and come home at different times, had different meetings or days in the studio or with the orchestra, but it didn’t seem to matter.

Every time he was in that hallway, Louis was there, wearing skin-tight leggings, covered in sweat, and smelling like the only thing Harry had ever wanted. Why he decided not to shower at the gym, Harry would never know.

Harry felt like he was about to burst into flames with every passing day, but for now he was curled up on Louis’ couch, sheet music draft forgotten and his violin resting delicately on the coffee table as Manchester United inched closer to premiership victory with another play. It was one all, and Niall had just made an incredible save that’d made it so loud Harry was sure he could hear it outside from where he was.

“Yes! C’mon boys, c’mon,” Harry murmured, leaning forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees while Ronaldo napped at the other end. “Come on Lou, you’ve got this.”

The ball shot across the pitch after a hard tackle from Louis, slamming into Zayn’s boot where he quickly got it under control. Zayn was incredibly fast and tricky, fancy footwork and incredible aim, and Harry found himself inching further off the couch as Zayn reached the box. There was less than a minute left now, and even Ronaldo had now woken up to sit next to Harry and seemingly watch.

A quick dribble past a defender, a swift kick to Martial, straight back to Zayn, and then the ball was soaring through the air. Harry held his breath.

It hit the back of the net with a _swoosh._

Harry was on his feet before it’d even been called, jumping around the lounge room and swaying his hips. A quick look back at the TV showed all the team kissing Zayn’s head, even Louis smacking a kiss to Zayn’s cheek as he leapt onto his back. Zayn’s grin was almost splitting his face, and Harry could see the flush rising. He’d never tell Louis, but Zayn was a very close second to be Harry’s favourite.

Not only an omega in a world as fierce as football, but an incredibly successful one, Zayn was one of Harry’s heroes. He’d broken into the premier league with an attitude as hard as diamonds, absolutely ready to tell everyone to fuck off if he needed to, but the team had been ready to protect him if he’d needed it; he hadn’t. He was more than capable of looking after himself. It was inspiring to watch him now though, scoring the winning goal to cinch the season.

It was obvious that Leicester City knew they’d already lost, regardless of the small amount of time left to play. They were already well into the four minutes of stoppage time that the sign had indicated, and Harry’s heart was racing as they settled back in their positions, the ball returning to the centre. The crowd was losing their mind now, constant chants of _‘MALIK, MALIK, MALIK’_ ringing through the air, and Harry’s stomach fluttered when the cameras moved to show Louis, grin on his face and looking around the stadium in awe.

There was about 30 seconds of back and forth, a fierce attack from Leicester, but it wasn’t enough. Louis and the other defenders were strong, a force to be reckoned with, and before Harry could make heads or tails of it, the final whistle was blowing, and everything was thunderous.

Harry was laughing, holding Ronaldo up towards the roof as the team all tackled each other, Louis and Zayn rolling around before they were all piled up on. Niall leapt onto the top, both arms in the air as he landed, and then he was pulled down into the pile as dozens of people flocked onto the field. Louis was crying, tears streaming down his face from where he was arched under Zayn, and Harry could feel himself getting choked up.

The camera cut to some of the Leicester players, and Harry’s heart broke for them. Some of them were huddled together, sobbing into each other’s shoulders, and suddenly Louis was breaking out from the pack, wriggling his way from under everyone, and jogging over to the captain. He wrapped him up in a crushing hug, and Harry remembered suddenly that they were good mates, and he couldn’t even imagine how much he was hurting. The noise of the crowd grew, and Harry could see cameras flashing to capture the tender moment as they clung to each other.

Harry tapped out a quick message to Louis to say congratulations and that he’d see him tomorrow, and then settled back to watch the celebrations. There was ceremonies and speeches, and time flew by quickly while Harry worked on his score, eyes jolting up every so often to watch Louis, and then it was all over.

He’d just picked up his violin to play back some of what he’d written when his phone rang. He sighed, placing it back down gently, and picked up his phone.

Louis. He rushed to answer it.

“Lou!” There was so much noise in the background that he could hardly hear anything.

_“’arry! Haz, we won! We fuckin’ did it Haz, we won!”_

Harry giggled down the line. He could tell Louis wasn’t drunk, knew him well enough to know his accent got heavier when he was excited, and he curled back up on the couch with his feet tucked under his bum.

“I know, I saw! Congratulations, you were so brilliant. You all were.” He could hear Zayn in the background leading some kind of chant, and he laughed again when Louis shushed them.

_“Shut up, fuckin’ hell. Talkin’ to my boy.” _Harry’s heart stuttered in his chest. What? He could hear cat calls in the background, Louis’ loud laugh, and then he was back again. _“Anyway Haz, we’re coming back to my place! Gonna have a party.”_

“Louis, it’s like, a three hour drive! You won’t get here until God knows when.”

_“Already halfway home, baby.” _Baby? What the actual fuck was happening? _“Got a bus and everything. Call whoever you want to come, I’m organising some stuff to be dropped off. See you soon, love.”_

And then the line went dead. He stared at the phone in his hand for a while, trying to explain away the _baby_ and _my boy_. The omega in him preened, but he tried to push it down. It wouldn’t help to get excited over something Louis had said just because he was happy about a win.

He took a deep breath, and called Liam.

*****

There were so many people in Louis’ flat. The music was loud, thumping through the floor and walls, and drinks were being thrown around everywhere. Harry was perched on the kitchen counter, legs swinging happily as he sipped some kind of fruity cocktail through a straw. It was only his second drink of the night though; he hated getting drunk around alphas he didn’t know.

Louis seemed to be in the same headspace, nursing what might have only been his third beer since the team had come spilling in through the front door a few hours ago. He caught Harry looking at him and winked, and Harry was thrown back to when Louis had stormed through the door, made a beeline for Harry, and picked him up to spin him around. The whole team had watched with slightly wicked grins, Niall and Zayn’s grins softer than the others, and then he’d been set down on the floor and hugged by what felt like a thousand people.

The main problem now was that Louis looked _incredible_. Harry had scolded himself on more than one occasion since they’d come home, willing his body not to react whenever Louis so much as glanced at him or brushed past him with a hand on his back. He kept chatting with Niall until the beta went to get another drink, and then Harry’s gaze flitted across the open space, travelling past groups and couples.

He did a double take, and his eyes snapped back. He felt the shit eating grin that spread over his face.

Liam was sitting on Louis’ couch, eyes crinkling and head thrown back in laughter, with none other than Zayn fucking Malik perched on his lap. Oh, Harry was going to have a field day with this. He watched them for a moment, watched as Zayn’s hand ran through Liam’s hair and Liam’s stroked over Zayn’s back. Zayn was almost the only reason Liam ever watched a game with Harry, and it was sweet to see them together. They were kind of perfect, actually.

Harry realised he was being creepy and let his eyes come back to the kitchen, and when he saw Louis cackling at something Niall said, he felt a rush of heat race through him, and he was suddenly slick.

Oh no.

He went to jump down to go to the bathroom, but it was already too late. He noticed Louis’ head snap to attention out of the corner of his eye, but there was already another hulking alpha in front of him, trying to step between his legs. He snapped his knees shut.

“Hi honey, what are you doing in here all alone?” The man smirked at him, hands boxing him in on the counter, and Harry froze. He didn’t recognise this alpha, knew he wasn’t on Louis’ team.

“I’m not alone. I’m fine, thank you,” Harry answered as politely as he could, but it just made the man move closer. He smelt like smoke and sandalwood, and Harry tried not to gag.

“Are you sure? Sure smells like you could use some company.” A hand reached for him, and Harry flinched back, but it was stopped abruptly by a harsh grip around the man’s wrist.

Harry saw the 28 tattoo before the scent hit him.

“I’d suggest you back up, Holloway.” Louis’ voice was cold and angry, and Harry blinked back the rush of arousal it sent through his body.

A low growl came when the man scowled at him and Harry realised with a start that it was coming from Louis. He was suddenly aware of the other players in the kitchen getting ready to back Louis in a fight, and then it hit him properly. Louis was _protecting_ him. It should’ve been obvious from the first second. He swayed where he sat, and Louis’ nostrils flared.

“Lou.”

Louis dropped Holloway’s wrist and moved closer, and Harry let his knees part to let Louis step between them. “Harry, are you okay darling?” When Harry nodded and tightened his legs around Louis’ waist, Louis spun back around. “I’d appreciate it if you got out of my house, thanks.”

The man looked shocked until recognition seemed to hit. “Oh, sorry Tommo. Didn’t realise this was _your_ Harry. We good?” He lifted his fist for what Harry knew was a fist bump, but he still flinched away slightly.

Louis ran a steady hand down Harry’s flank, and Harry hummed when it settled around into the small of his back. “Nah, mate. I’d appreciate it if you left. Now.”

They were something almost stinging in Louis’ scent now, like the crackle of a forest fire, but Harry just let himself sink further into it. This protective Louis was _hot_, and he felt another wave of slick. Louis groaned as another waft of pine hit his nose, and Harry sat up straighter just as everyone seemed to be herded out of the kitchen. He could see one of them trying to subtly block his nose, and he flushed when he heard the front door slam behind Holloway.

Louis was watching the hallway as if he was expecting someone to come back and take Harry from him, and Harry cleared his throat to get his attention.

“Lou? What did he mean by _your Harry_?”

Louis startled as if he’d forgotten Harry was there. He reached up to tuck a curl behind Harry’s ear, threading softly through his hair to tug gently on his bun. He looked embarrassed, but Harry made a soft noise and pushed into his touch.

“This might not be the best place for this conversation, love. C’mon, come outside with me.”

There was no one on the balcony when they made their way out there, but Zayn did wink at them as they passed by. Harry flipped him off, grinning as Zayn laughed before burying his face back in Liam’s neck.

Louis took Harry’s drink from his hand, placed it on the small table, and pulled him closer to where he was resting back against the balcony.

“I’m sorry, love. I don’t even really know that wanker, and if I’d known he was gonna disrespect you like that, I never would’ve let him set foot in the flat.”

Harry placed a careful hand on Louis’ bicep, squeezing softly. “It’s alright, I know. What did he mean though?”

He was desperate to understand, to know why suddenly everything didn’t make sense, why it seemed like Louis actually _wanted _him, that maybe the team teased him about it.

“I didn’t think I was very subtle about it, to be honest.” Louis pushed a breath out through his noise, a wry smile on his face, gently cupping Harry’s hips in his hands. “Thought I was obvious.”

There was a new wave of pine and citrus that made Harry stutter out a breath. He was done waiting, had wanted Louis for too long. He stepped forward, reaching out to tentatively place a hand on the back on Louis’ neck, but when all that happened was a stronger tinge of citrus and a flaring of Louis’ nostrils, Harry moved until they were almost pressed up against each other, and tipped his head back to bare his throat.

It was the most obvious thing he could’ve done in any situation, but Louis’ scent was wrapping around him now, heady in the air. He knew his own scent would be shifting, letting Louis know what he wanted, and then Louis wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist, and pulled him flush against his body.

He didn’t waste any time after that. Harry let out a low whine when Louis nosed at this neck, his fingers tightening around Harry’s waist as he inhaled.

“Haz, Harry, are you sure?” Even through the words, Louis was already trailing small kisses up to his ear, and Harry could feel him half hard against his thigh. “Fuck you smell good baby, no idea how long I’ve wanted you.”

Harry felt dizzy now when he rutted slowly against Louis, but he was still aware enough to answer.

“Yes, Louis, so sure, please,” he breathed out, wrapping himself further around the alpha, “want you so much.”

Louis groaned, had just kissed the corner of Harry’s mouth, and just when Harry was about to slam their lips together, he realised where they were; on the balcony in full view of everyone. He drew back slowly, looked to the left, and squeaked.

At least 15 people were watching them, most looking smug as shit, some awkward, some slightly interested. Louis followed his gaze and huffed, dragging him back inside and past everyone by his wrist. He followed happily, ignoring everyone’s eyes and cat calls, and as soon as they were in Louis’ bedroom, he was unceremoniously pushed against the wall and kissed within an inch of his life.

He moaned, hitching his leg up around Louis’ waist as he nipped at his lip, Louis’ tongue sliding over the spot to soothe it. Louis’ grip was strong, one hand on his face, the other sliding up his thigh to grab his arse. Harry’s hips stuttered forward, and he could feel more slick soaking into his pants. He’d wanted Louis for _so long_, and he let himself fall into the forest scent as Louis slowed the kiss, taking Harry’s mouth exactly how he wanted.

When Harry had to pull back for breath, sucking air harshly into his lungs, Louis lips travelled to his throat to suck lazy marks. He nosed at Harry’s bonding spot, making him whine and grip Louis’ hair, and when Louis let his tongue dart out to flick across his skin, Harry ground forward to get some relief.

Louis pressed quick kisses to his neck and chin until their foreheads were resting together. “I’m gonna miss you so much while I’m gone, Harry. So, _so_ much.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, Louis.” He nudged their noses together. “I’ll be right here when you get back, though.”

And then he was being carefully steered away from the wall, being stripped as Louis tore both their clothes off, every inch of his skin being stroked and kissed until he was a writhing mess on Louis’ sheets. The party was still loud outside the door, but nothing could’ve drowned out the sound Louis made when he dragged his lips up Harry’s thighs and smelt him, heady and wet.

“Fuck baby, you smell so incredible,” Louis moaned, his nose nudging against Harry’s balls as his hands slid down his skin to cup his arse and lift him, “always smell so good, like a fuckin’ clearing full of wildflowers after a storm, Haz. Can I? Please darling, want to taste you, dreamt about it so much.”

Harry arched his back, overwhelmed as Louis sucked bruises into the skin at the top of his thighs. “You smell amazing too, so good Lou.” His hands flew down to tangle in Louis’ hair. “Yes, please, whatever you want.”

“Are you sure?”

“_Yes._”

Then Louis’ tongue was licking him in one firm, long stroke, and Harry felt the groan that Louis let out as the strokes quickened. He was lapping at Harry’s hole, catching the slick before it could drip onto the sheets, and Harry cried out when he felt Louis’ tongue circle his rim.

“So sweet Haz, _god_. Could stay here for hours.”

Harry sobbed when one of Louis’ hands shifted, smoothing over his arse to let a finger circle the ring of muscle, and when Harry relaxed, Louis sucked around his rim, and slowly pushed his finger in to the first knuckle.

He was relentless after that, thrumming his finger over Harry’s prostate, tongue trailing over Harry’s thighs where his slick was gathering, sucking more bruises into the pale skin as Harry pushed his hips up with a cry.

Harry was close now, felt like he had been since before they’d even kissed, and with three of Louis’ fingers inside him, he never had a chance.

“Lou, _Louis,_ alpha I –.”

Louis’ head snapped up, a low growl ripping from his throat at the title, and then Harry was being blanketed by Louis’ body, heat and friction making him whine. He pushed up to kiss him, sucking at his bottom lip as Louis fumbled with something to his right, and Harry realised he was trying to open a condom with one hand. A normal one. He bit his lip, not sure how to ask, but Louis somehow instantly noticed something was wrong, and pulled back panting.

“Is this okay, love? We don’t have to.”

Soothing hands ran down his chest, wrapped around his cock where he was desperate and hard, leaking here almost as much as he was where Louis’ fingers were still pressed inside him.

“No, no, I want you, _please,_ I just,” Harry sighed, arching up more into Louis’ body, “I thought, maybe, you could use a knotting one? If you wanted?”

Louis looked at him in stunned silence for a moment before he ducked down to kiss him fiercely, dominating his mouth as Harry’s head pressed harshly into the pillow.

“Are you serious? You want me to _knot you_?” Louis pulled away to moan into Harry’s neck, nipping at the bond mark there. Harry’s hip jolted up. “God yeah baby, hang on.”

Harry waited while Louis dug deep in his drawer for a knotting condom, the base larger from where he’d press against Harry’s rim later, the tip longer to hold more for when Louis would be pulsing deep inside him.

Fuck, he’d waited long _enough_ now.

He was just about to snap, but then Louis was slipping it on, and pressing the tip of his cock against Harry’s rim.

“Harry. Are you sure?” He ran careful hands through Harry’s hair where he was resting, elbows either side of Harry’s head. “This is – this is pretty serious, darling. It’ll be harder to be apart for so long after this.”

Harry already knew that. Even though his body wouldn’t form as big of a connection with the condom there, it’d still know he’d been knotted, and by Louis. It was what he _wanted_, though.

“I’m sure, as long as you are.”

Their gazes held for a moment, and then Louis was leaning down to kiss him deep as he slowly flexed his hips forward to bottom out in one long thrust.

So full, so perfect, _everything_ he’d wanted. He let out a long groan, matching Louis’ low moan, and wrapped himself around him tightly. Louis’ scent seemed to be soaking into every pore as he withdrew slowly, but then he was thrusting smoothly back inside Harry, and they clutched each other tighter still.

Louis picked up his pace when Harry tried to meet his thrusts, groaning against Harry’s lips. “You’re so fucking wet love, so tight, best thing I’ve ever felt. My perfect omega, _mine_.”

It was all slightly hazy from there, filled with sweetness and fire, and then Louis’ fingers were wrapping around his cock as he fucked into his heat, and Harry was coming with a sharp cry. He dug his nails into Louis’ back as he spilled over his hand, and then he could feel the base of Louis’ cock swelling until it tugged at his rim with every stroke.

Harry was gasping, trying desperately to get enough air into his lungs, and then turned his head to mouth Louis’ neck.

“Please Louis, want you to knot me, please, _alpha_.”

There was a harsh grunt, a strong tug at his hole, and then Louis was shoving himself deep inside Harry as his knot popped. Harry could feel him coming into the condom, dug his heels into Louis’ arse with a pathetic whine, and when Louis searched out his lips, he nudged his nose into his cheek until he turned his head and connected their lips.

They both came down together, wrapped up in each other as Louis kept coming, keeping them locked together as Harry’s omega glowed. He ran a hand down Louis’ sweaty back, humming when Louis pulled himself up weakly to kiss him softly.

“Are you okay?” Louis closed his eyes with a soft noise as another wave hit him.

Harry pushed Louis’ fringe back from his face. “’m perfect.”

They stayed wrapped up in each other exchanging soft kisses and loving touches until Louis’ knot went down. When he slipped out with a wince, Harry was almost asleep straight away, and he was only awake just enough to feel Louis press a kiss to his temple as he crawled back into bed and threw an arm around his waist.

*****

When he woke, it was to Louis pressed up against his back, his breath tickling the hair at the back of Harry’s neck where it’d fallen from his bun. He wriggled back into the warmth, and Louis let out a soft grunt as his arm tightened. Harry hummed when he felt lips press against the top of his spine.

“Morning,” he whispered, giggling when Louis tickled lightly over his stomach.

“Morning, love. What do you think, should we stay in bed?”

Harry was just about to grind back into Louis where he was half hard, but then there was a harsh knock at the bedroom door, and they both jolted.

“Oi, Tommo! Get up, Liam made breakfast.”

Louis groaned, kissing Harry’s neck and running a hand down to wrap around his cock. “We’ll be out in a minute Ni.”

They could hear Niall chuckling as he wandered away, but Harry was being shifted, turned around and lifted to straddle Louis’ waist.

It was only 10 minutes before they made their way out to the kitchen, glowing and sated, and Harry stopped in his tracks at the sight. There were a few football players sitting at the dining table that grunted at them when they came in, but it wasn’t that, or even Niall sitting happily at the head of the table as if he’d never been drunk.

It was Zayn, straddling Liam in one of Louis’ dining chairs and feeding him toast. Liam’s arms were wrapped protectively around Zayn’s waist, and he was chewing happily as Zayn scratched at his stubble with a grin. It was at that moment that Liam looked up, and he flushed when he noticed Harry looking. His face stayed the same though, as if nothing could bring him down.

Harry knew the feeling. He nosed at Louis’ hair as he brushed past him, a gentle hand running down Harry’s body, and Liam let out a startled laugh. Louis broke the moment.

“Malik, what was rule one of having this party at my house?”

Zayn’s grin only widened. “Don’t have sex on your dining room table.”

“And what did you do?”

“Had sex on your dining room table.”

Liam spluttered, Niall cackled, and all of the boys around the table cheered. Harry shot Louis an incredulous look as he pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“How did you _possibly_ know that?”

Louis shrugged, pouring boiling water into a mug with a tea bag. “I didn’t, but it was a solid guess.”

One by one, or in Zayn and Liam’s case, two, the other men left, and it wasn’t until Niall left with a slap on Louis’ back and a _“see you tomorrow, mate”,_ that Harry realised he didn’t know what Louis’ schedule was like now.

He lifted his head from where it was resting in Louis’ lap. “Tomorrow?”

Louis’ hand froze in his hair. “Tomorrow’s when I have to go to London for training before we go to Russia.”

Harry had obviously known Louis was leaving soon, that he was going to be gone for three months, but he’d forgotten it was so soon. He could feel his omega already mourning the loss, the connection they’d made last night thrumming between them happily with each point of physical contact. He already hadn’t known how he was going to get through the next few months when Louis seemed unattainable, but now.

They were both silent, and all Harry did was burrow deeper into Louis’ warmth until he moved to lay behind Harry, wrapping them up together. Gentle kisses were pressed to his neck, and all Harry could do was hope and wish that Louis wouldn’t change his mind while he was away.

“I’ll miss you, Lou.”

A pause. “I’ll miss you too, love. So much.”

*****

The studio time was on track, but it wouldn’t be for much longer if the fucking cello player wouldn’t stop being such a fucking _dick._

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath. “James, please just listen to Liam play the section again.”

Liam eyed him cautiously, and he knew it was because Harry didn’t _get _like this. He didn’t have mood swings, didn’t snap at everyone that so much as looked at him. The only thing he could chalk it up to was the fact Louis had already been gone for a whole damn _six weeks_, and the calls and Skype sessions were only just enough to pull him through. Sometimes, they settled him, his omega seeming to doze after having anything to do with what it viewed as Harry’s alpha. Sometimes though, it just made him restless, desperate for physical contact, to touch Louis and kiss him and just _scent_ him.

Living in Louis’ apartment for now was enough, his scent lingering strongly where he’d made sure to scent mark the rooms and walls before he left. Harry knew it’d be gone before Louis got home though, and on days like today, the six hour flight felt like nothing. He wouldn’t do it, didn’t want to seem too desperate, but it was always a bit of a relief when Louis seemed just as needy to see him. He’d admitted just last night that his alpha was unsettled, and that he knew that seeing Harry was the only thing that’d sooth it. They were halfway there, though.

He listened to Liam play and closed his eyes, wincing slightly when he felt a wave of nausea spread through his body. He inhaled slowly, pushing the breath out just as cautiously, and when it did nothing to quell the swirling in his stomach, he reached out shakily to take a few sips of water.

Harry barely noticed when Liam came to sit next to him as the orchestra started up again, but he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket just as Liam pulled his own out.

“Zayn?”

Liam’s entire face was soft, so the question was almost irrelevant. “Yeah. They’re just about to start their first match. Hey, mate, are you alright? You don’t look very well.”

Harry swallowed heavily, even though the build up of saliva at the back of his throat was enough to warn him of what was coming. He shook his head desperately and tried to get up, but Liam pushed him back down.

“Haz, you won’t make the bathroom, here.” Liam shoved a small, steel bin into his hands, his face laced with concern. “C’mon, it’s alright, let it out.”

And then Harry was heaving up the contents of his stomach, vomiting directly into the bin, his whole body convulsing as the music around them died down. He could feel Liam’s hand rubbing soothing circles on his back, murmured words try to calm him down, but he just coughed once before a second round.

When he’d finally stopped, he set the bin down as a tear slipped from his eye and he gasped for breath. His water bottle was pressed into his hand, so he took a huge gulp, swirled it in his mouth and gargled before he spat into the bin with a grimace.

“’m sorry, shit,” he gasped out, but Liam scoffed, and his hand started up again.

“No need to apologise, Haz. Better to get it all out, yeah? Did you eat something weird?”

Harry felt his phone buzz again, and he pulled it out of his pocket as he shook his head. “I don’t think so. Haven’t felt great for the last few days.”

He opened the message from Louis as the conductor wandered over to talk to Liam. He could hear them whispering, making sure he was okay, and when Liam assured them all he was, the music started up again. No matter how shit he felt, how disgusting and bloated and just _gross_, he smiled down at his phone.

Louis had sent him a selfie of him, Niall, and Zayn, all of them dressed in their gear and ready to go, wide smiles on their faces and thumbs up. Harry sent back a kissy emoji, a heart, and wished them all good luck. Louis wrote back within seconds, promising to call him after the game, and Harry felt everything settle slightly.

When he looked across to Liam, he realised he was staring at him, a slight frown set on his face.

“What’s up, Li?”

Liam seemed conflicted. “You just, ah. You kind of, smell different? Like, woodsy?” Liam’s frown deepened as he sniffed. “Yeah, like a forest or something. It’s all mingled in with your normal scent, but it’s there. It kind of smells like –.” Liam’s eyes widened, but by the time he’d swung around to stare at Harry, Harry had already figured it out.

Oh. Oh _fuck_.

He smelt like _Louis._ They weren’t mated though, and the knotting wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t linger for so long or grow _stronger_ over time, so it only left one logical option.

Harry could hear Liam trying to talk to him, but his heart was racing as his brain struggled to catch up.

His mood swings. The nausea. The change in his scent. The intense way his omega craved Louis, and Louis’ alpha seemed desperate to come back to him.

“Liam,” he gasped out, his hand flailing out to grasp onto Liam’s thigh. “Liam, I think –.”

“I know, I know. I’m gonna go get a test, okay? We’ll find out, you won’t be able to concentrate unless you know.” Liam pressed a quick kiss to his forehead and dashed out the door, ever the protector.

Harry sat perfectly still, staring at the wall as the music swelled around him. It all made perfect sense. They’d used _protection_ though, but Harry’s brain argued that it wasn’t always affective. He was on birth control pills too though, and surely – he groaned when he remembered he’d forgotten to take them either side of that night, too distracted by what was going on.

“For fucks sake,” he groaned, but he waved the conductor on to continue when he stopped. The music swelled again.

He took a deep breath and pulled up the boy’s game on his phone. They were still going through the pregame commentary, but Harry could see Louis running onto the pitch, the 28 standing out starkly amongst the team.

Maybe only to Harry, though.

His stomach settled further at seeing him, his gorgeous man, running through drills and laughing with his mates, and by the time Liam came back, they were just about to start. Liam raised his eyebrows at him and pressed the test into his palm.

“Go. The game will still be here when you get back.”

Harry sighed, but it came out shakier than he’d hoped for. He heaved himself up from his seat and basically sprinted to the bathroom, suddenly desperate to know. He didn’t want to dwell on the result yet, not until he knew what it was, but the three minutes he had to wait felt like a lifetime.

Waiting in the dimly lit bathroom seemed to make it worse, the smudges on the mirror and the flicker in the globes making everything seem foreboding and intense. He tried to distract himself by humming, but when he realised every song had baby in the title, he snapped his mouth shut. As soon as the alarm on his phone went off, he grabbed the test from the bench and flipped it over, but instantly closed his eyes.

He took a deep breath. Either way, no matter what, everything was fine. If it was negative, nothing changed. If it was positive; well, everything changed, but that could be a good thing, a _brilliant_ thing even. There was only one way to know. He opened his eyes.

Two pink, thin lines stared back at him.

Positive.

He was pregnant.

Six weeks pregnant. With Louis’ baby.

Him and Louis were going to have a _baby_. After six weeks of kind of dating after having sex and then Louis leaving to go play football for 3 months.

He threw himself into a stall and vomited in the toilet. He heard the door creak open, but he relaxed when Liam’s scent hit him, vanilla and talcum powder softening the air. It was such a soothing scent, Liam’s, and Harry smiled when he remembered the combination of that and Zayn’s honey and spice scent.

Liam’s hand ran softly through his hair, pulling it back off his face and tying it into a loose bun for him.

“Thanks, Li. Where’d you even find the tie?”

Liam snorted. “It’s a piece of ribbon from your desk. Don’t ask how I managed to actually secure this mess of curls. Maybe don’t move for a while.”

Harry chuckled, but it was a weak sound, and he pulled back to rest his head against the wall of the stall. “I take it you saw the result on the sink.”

“Yeah.” Liam’s voice was quiet, but his fingers never stopped their soothing. “So you’re pregnant, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“With Louis’ baby.”

“Yup.”

“While he’s in a whole other country.”

Harry shot him a weak glare. “Weirdly enough Liam, you’re not helping.”

“Sorry, sorry. Are you gonna tell him while he’s away?”

“Haven’t even thought about it.”

Liam moved forward to help him stand, steadying him when he wobbled on his feet. “You’ve got some time, Haz. You’ll tell him when you’re ready.”

He hummed his agreement and moved forward to wash his mouth out, rubbing his hand over his stomach before he froze.

“Hey Li?” Liam made a noise to show he was listening as he tied his shoe, so Harry continued. “I’m gonna have a baby, Liam. A _baby_.”

It’d just hit him, and even still he knew it hadn’t hit him properly. He’d wanted kids for as long as he could remember, and now he was _pregnant_. He was going to have a baby, a tiny version of him and Louis that hopefully got Louis’ blue eyes and Harry’s curls.

“Yeah, Haz.” The smile on Liam’s face grew as he stepped forward to wrap Harry up in his arms and lift him off the ground. Harry squealed and laughed, whacking Liam’s back in protest. “A baby, Harry, a tiny little baby!”

They laughed and spun and hugged, and then Harry cried, and Liam melted, and then they made their way back out to watch the rest of the game.

The score Harry had written was the perfect soundtrack for when they came out just in time to see Louis slide tackle the ball away from a Tunisia player just in front of the box. Harry rubbed his belly, even though he knew he wouldn’t show for a while yet.

“That’s your daddy, walnut. That’s your daddy.”

Liam watched with a soft smile, and Harry couldn’t keep his hand off his stomach all day.

*****

Harry pulled into the driveway with a sigh and a heavy breath. Liam had assured him that the recording would go perfectly without him for a day or so, and that he had to approve the final copy anyway. He’d practically pushed Harry out the door and called him mum for him to tell her Harry was coming home for a visit.

He’d ignored Louis’ call after they won the game against Tunisia, not knowing how to tell him yet but knowing that Louis would instantly pick up that something was wrong. He’d messaged him just after the call rang out with his congratulations full of emojis, apologising for not answering and saying he was swamped in the studio, and Louis had sent back so many messages of love and reassurance that Harry had broken down in tears for being such an arsehole. Liam had tried to assure him he wasn’t, but Harry refused to believe him, and the next thing he knew, he was basically being sent away to see his mum the next day.

He reread the text from Louis he’d gotten just before he left home, and realised he really needed to reply.

_Hi baby, hope you’re okay? Zayn said that Liam mentioned you were sick yesterday :( why didn’t you say anything, love? Please let me know you’re alright, it’s the only thing that’ll stop me from jumping on a flight and coming back. It feels like I can sense something’s wrong, don’t know why xx_

**Hi Lou, I’m okay. Just a bit of a stomach thing, nothing to worry about. I’ve gone home to visit mum, I’m sure that’ll help :) miss you, don’t do anything crazy though xx**

His phone buzzed before he even got out of the car.

_Okay love, look after yourself. Miss you too, give Ronaldo lots of hugs from me when you get back home xx _

He tapped back a quick reply full of hearts and a selfie of him and Ronaldo, braced himself, and got out of the car. This was his _mum_, he tried to reason with himself. She was probably going to be thrilled, ask a million questions, and make sure he was eating properly. He’d been to the doctor this morning and had a few tests, and they’d confirmed what he already knew – he was six weeks along, expecting sometime in January, and everything was fine. There was the small chance she’d disapprove, but she already knew about Louis, had met him in the two years they’d lived next to each other, and gushed about him whenever he was on the news.

He knocked on the front door before pushing it open, calling out as he stepped inside.

“Sweetheart, how are you?” His mum was already waiting in the hall, face lit up and arms open, and he instantly sank into her arms.

“Hi, Mum. I’m okay.”

And then he promptly burst into tears.

“Oh sweetheart, come on, come through and we’ll have some tea.” Her hand rubbed firmly along his spine as he cried into her shoulder before she was manoeuvring them through the house to sit at the kitchen table.

He sat down with a sniff, pushing his curls back from his face and rubbing at his eyes. He smiled at her when she placed a cup of tea down in front of him, and then took his hand in hers.

“Now, tell me what’s wrong. I assumed there was something going on, you don’t usually visit on a weekday.”

Harry had planned a million different ways to tell her on the trip here, but it just came tumbling out.

“I’m pregnant.” The only sign she’d heard him was the slight falter in the movement as she bought the teacup to her lips. “I’m six weeks, and I’m keeping it. I’m having a baby.”

He watched her as she put the cup down, chewing on his lip nervously while he waited for her to look back up at him. When she finally did, she was grinning, and her eyes were sparkling.

“Harry, that’s such wonderful news, love. Why are you crying?”

He choked out a laugh. “I don’t know, I cry at everything these days.” They laughed together as he gripped her hand. “You’re not mad?”

“Sweetheart, why on Earth would I be mad? Are you happy?”

The answer was immediate. “Yes.”

“And the father, he’s good to you?”

“Incredibly.”

She took another sip of tea. “Well, I don’t see the issue darling. When can I meet him?”

Harry fidgeted with his cup, avoiding her raised eyebrow. “Ah, you’ve already met him actually. It’s um, it’s Louis? Louis Tomlinson? The man from next –.”

“Harry,” she cut him off, amusement covering every inch of her face. “I’m well aware who Louis Tomlinson is, thank you. I hope the baby gets his eyes.”

“That’s what I said!”

“So, you’ve told him?”

Harry winced and took a gulp of tea, letting out a whoosh of air as it burnt his tongue. “Not yet. He’s away in Russia at the moment, s’the FIFA World Cup. Yesterday was the first day we didn’t talk on the phone since he left.”

Anne hummed, blowing cool air across the surface of her tea with a pointed look at Harry. He rolled his eyes at her, but blew on his tea this time anyway.

“You have to tell him, Harry. He deserves to know.”

Harry groaned, sinking down in his chair until Anne kicked him to sit up straight. He grumbled and slouched forward out of protest. “I know _that_, but he’s at the World Cup, Mum. I can’t distract him, it’s too important for him.”

“So is this.”

He ended up staying for dinner, and when he made it back to Louis’ apartment, Ronaldo curled up in Louis’ bed with him in amongst sheets that only _just _smelt like Louis now, he psyched himself up and called him.

_“Haz! Hi, baby. How are you feeling?” _

His voice sent instant warmth through Harry’s body. He curled up under the duvet with a soft noise. “Lou. Hi, I’m okay. I’m sorry to call so late.”

_“Don’t apologise, I’m also happy to hear from you.”_

They chatted about the game for a while, and then about Harry’s visit with his mum. Each word from Louis’ raspy voice made Harry more content, and he was a second away from falling asleep when he remembered.

“Oh, Louis. I have to tell you something.”

_“What is it, love?”_

He opened his mouth to say it, to get it out there so he knew, so that that they could start working towards something together, something that was solid.

But then the fear that Louis would leave, that he wouldn’t want this ran through him and turned him cold. He would wait a little bit longer.

“Just miss you, that’s all.”

A soft noise came through the phone. _“I miss you too. Not much longer now.”_

*****

“Yes! Come on Zayn, show ‘em who’s boss, baby.”

Harry grinned over his tea at Liam as he sat on the edge of the couch, staring intently at the screen as the last five minutes ticked by. It wasn’t a close game against Panama, 5-1 to England at the moment, but Liam’s face whenever Zayn scored made Harry wish that they were up by at least 20. That’d hardly be fair, though.

The ball shot past the keeper and they both erupted, causing Ronaldo to bail off the couch with a startled meow. Harry had sent Louis and Zayn selfie of the three of them lounging on the couch before the game, blowing kisses and wishing them luck. Louis had sent back a string of emojis, whereas Zayn had told Liam that if he scored three goals, Liam had to take him out to dinner the night he came back.

Liam was already on the phone making a reservation, it seemed.

They lazed around during the post-game commentary, Harry rubbing his stomach absentmindedly as they worked on the next song for Spiderman, and then their phones rang at the same time. Liam ducked out of the room with a quick apology to answer Zayn’s call, and Harry happily grabbed Ronaldo from the floor and accepted Louis’ Skype.

“Hi Lou! Congratulations, we’re so proud of you!”

Even through a pixelated screen, sweaty and red in the face, Louis looked breathtaking. Harry could’ve sworn he felt their walnut move, but he knew it was just wishful thinking at this point.

_“Hi, babies. Thank you, thank you, it was unreal!”_

Louis had moved into a secluded area somewhere so they could talk without any interruptions, so he was surprised when Louis suddenly stopped him halfway through a conversation about how the score was coming along.

_“Sorry Haz, but are you alright? Something feels unsettled, and I think it’s you, and I don’t know what it is.”_

Okay, so maybe Harry still hadn’t told him. It’d only been 10 days, but every time Harry tried to tell him, nothing came out. He’d convinced himself that the reason he hadn’t done it was because Louis deserved to be told in person, and while part of him believed it, that just wasn’t the real reason.

It didn’t help that Louis had somehow developed this sixth fucking sense for knowing when Harry was sick, or tired, or anything.

“I’m okay Lou, just miss you.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but it definitely wasn’t the truth.

Louis pulled his headband off, flicking his fringe back. _“I’m having such an amazing time, but I can’t wait to come home and see you. I’ve never missed a game, you know? Not even for an injury or anything. I know I say it all the fuckin’ time, but I miss you. Weird, innit? I mean, we’re not like, dating or anything, are we?”_

Harry’s heart stopped. “Are – is this your way of asking, or your way of telling me, because I need to know the difference right now, please.”

Louis was shaking his head before Harry even finished his sentence. _“Fuck, sorry. I realise how that sounded, sorry love. I guess, I’m asking? Because I want to, yeah? Want to date you. I know I’m so far away right now, and it’s the worst timing, but –.”_

“Yes. I want that too, but,” Harry stopped to chew on his nail, “there’s something we need to talk about when you get back.”

What the fuck was that? Now all Louis was going to do was stress, and he was going to fuck up the games, and it was going to be all Harry’s fault.

All he did was raise an eyebrow. _“Okay baby, is it something I need to be worried about?” _

“No, I don’t think so.”

_“Alright then, we can wait until I get home.”_ Louis’ reassuring smile lit up the small screen, and Harry couldn’t help but let a tear run down his cheek. _“Oh Harry, are you sure you’re alright?”_

Harry sobbed out a laugh, wiping the tear away quickly. “I’m sure, fuck, I’m sorry. I just really miss you. Nothing smells like you anymore.”

_“Baby.” _Harry would die happy if Louis used a pet name with him every sentence until he died. _“I’ll be home soon, and I’ll scent everything you fucking own.”_

“I’ll hold you to that.”

*****

Harry didn’t think he’d ever been this nervous in his whole life. They’d gotten past Columbia and Sweden, but it was Croatia now, the only team between England and the final. Liam was an inch away from straight up murdering someone, and Harry had bitten his nails down to the quick. It was currently 1-1, and Zayn had missed three shots. Harry knew he’d be kicking himself, be furious and upset after the game, but it absolutely wasn’t his fault.

This crowd seemed to be particularly against the fact he was an omega, and it was taking its toll. The whole team was sneering at the crowd after every chant or sign, Louis wrapping a protective arm around Zayn at every opportunity, but it didn’t seem to be enough.

They were in extra time now, and Harry wasn’t sure he was going to survive.

He was right.

He watched, his heart sinking as Liam gasped next to him, as the ball sailed past Niall, and hit the net.

There was a physical pain that shot through him when Louis’ face crumpled as he dropped to a squat, and Harry felt it all the way to his toes. Liam seemed to be about to get on a flight to Russia to take on thousands of football fans, and Harry didn’t really have it in him to stop that from happening. He watched as Zayn sank to the grass, head in his hands when the game was finally called, and then Louis was jogging over to him and helping him up.

He called Louis right away, obviously knowing he wasn’t going to answer, but left him a voicemail that he hoped would help him feel slightly better.

“Hey Lou, ‘m really proud of you, of all of you. You all played so brilliantly, and I wish I could be there. Call me whenever you’re ready. Miss you.”

He’d waited, and hoped, and wished, but it’d been four days, and Harry hadn’t heard from Louis once. He’d called him, texted him, sent him pictures, but nothing. Liam had spoken to Zayn almost every hour, it seemed, and Zayn was about 0.2 seconds away from getting on the next plane, third position playoff be damned. It was only Liam convincing him that he needed to stay that seemed to work.

Harry and Liam watched the final game together, huddled together under a blanket, Ronaldo stretched out over their laps. The fight seemed to have gone out of them, and Harry felt like crying when he saw the bags under Louis’ eyes. It seemed to be over quickly, Belgium taking third place with a score of 2-0, and Harry could see the tears gathering in Louis’ eyes as they left the pitch.

He didn’t bother to call this time, knew that Louis would call him back when he was ready, but he did shoot him a text to just tell him they’d been incredible throughout the whole thing, and that he couldn’t wait to see him.

It was another three hours until Liam had left, and Harry’s phone rang. He answered it without looking.

“Hello?”

_“Harry.”_

He froze. “Lou? Louis,” he sighed, rubbing his hand over his stomach and delighting in the tiny bump there. “You were so brilliant. I’m so proud of you.”

Louis let out a choked sob. _“I’m so sorry I didn’t call. I just, I felt like such a failure, yeah? Couldn’t bear the thought of you thinking that too.”_

“Never, absolutely never.” Harry’s voice was firm and steady, and he was glad when heard Louis draw a stuttered breath. “You came fourth in the _world_, Lou. That’s amazing. You’re amazing. When are you coming home?”

There was a startled, wet laugh. _“Thanks, baby. Thank you. Ah, tomorrow. I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. Only for a day or two though, then I have to go to London for some publicity stuff.”_

Oh my God. Tomorrow, Louis would be home _tomorrow._ Harry let himself grin. “Have dinner with me tomorrow, at my place.”

_“I can’t wait, darling.”_

*****

Louis was due in 5 minutes, was at his own flat next door _right now_, and Harry couldn’t stop fidgeting with his sweater. It was an old cream one he’d pulled out of the back of his closet, big enough to hide the small swell of his stomach that Louis probably wouldn’t even notice. He’d thrown his hair up in a bun, pulled on a pair on black jeans that still fit without making him feel gross, and slipped into a pair of fuzzy socks. He was ready to tell him, had organised a whole big speech with dinner, and hopefully Louis would be as ecstatic as he was.

The knock on the door made him jump, and when he pulled it open with his heart in his throat, he didn’t have time for anything before Louis was launching himself at him.

He landed back against the wall with a _thud_, sobbing as Louis kissed him until he was breathless, cupping his face in his hands and pushing so much of his scent into the room that Harry felt dizzy with it. His omega felt like it was purring, like it was finally content again, and he felt like he was slowly sliding down the wall.

Louis wrapped both arms around his waist, hoisted him back up, and pulled away to pant against his mouth. God, having him this close again made Harry whine and wrap himself around him, desperate for more.

“Missed you _so much_ baby, can’t believe I ever went without you like this. Never again, not for as long as I live.”

Harry couldn’t concentrate with Louis nipping at his neck, could only focus on the feel of his body under his hands, solid and warm and finally _back._ He didn’t have time to do anything before Louis was burying his face in Harry’s neck and inhaling.

They both froze.

Louis stood there for a long moment, panting into the room before he pulled back slightly.

“You –,” he stepped back further, and Harry closed his eyes, “I can smell my – you’re pregnant?”

Louis’ hands moved around his hips to press gently against his belly through his sweater. Suddenly, Harry couldn’t stop the words.

“I wanted to tell you, every day, but I didn’t know how you’d _take_ it, you know? And I didn’t want to distract you from anything while you were gone, you needed all of your concentration, and –.”

Harry blinked down at Louis as he slowly sank to his knees in front of him, his hands pushing up his sweater until Harry’s whole stomach was on display. Louis laid his hands flat on the soft swell there, staring in awe, and Harry suddenly felt lighter.

“It’s mine? That’s – that’s my baby in there?”

Harry swallowed to try and hold back tears as Louis dropped his forehead to rest on his stomach. He let his hand fall to thread through Louis’ hair. “Yeah, Lou. Yours.”

The reply was whispered. “Ours. Our baby.”

The first tear that fell definitely came from Harry, but he could feel a wetness on his skin from Louis as well. Louis wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and pulled him away from the wall, pressing reverent kiss after kiss against the skin under his lips.

“Louis, hey,” Harry urged, but Louis shook his head and clutched him tighter. “You’re not, like, mad or anything?”

He seemed to startle back at that, looking up at Harry with a soft smile and bright blue eyes. “Mad? Never, darling. It’s a dream come true, baby. You’re a dream come true.” He stood up, cupping Harry’s face and kissing him deeply. “I love you.”

Harry didn’t think he’d _ever_ stop crying now. “I love you too, Lou. Fuck, I love you so much.”

It wasn’t until later, when they were sweaty and floaty and fucked out, that Louis realised why he’d been so in tune with Harry’s feelings, and why he’d been desperate to rush home. 

And it wasn’t until six months later that Louis missed his first match ever, racing to the birth of their daughter, Ruby as Liam sped him and Zayn through the city.

And then another two years after that, when Louis missed his second game ever to be there for Harry’s c-section when he had their son, Will, and Zayn happened to be having his and Liam’s first child the next room over.

And well, if he missed another three games in his long-standing career for the same reason, and Harry missed an Academy Award’s night for their wedding, no one could ever say that they didn’t have their priorities right.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'm so grateful, and if you feel like leaving a kudos or comment, it'd absolutely made my day!  
Come find me on Tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lightwoodsmagic) \- I love chatting to people!  
Thank you all again xx


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